


Red Seeds and Iron

by Ruis



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Blood Metaphors, F/M, Mythology - Freeform, Pomegranates, hinted cunnilingus, hinted femdom, hinted menstrual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/pseuds/Ruis
Summary: The air tasted of rust, he thought. He had been waiting for the sign of a breeze, any sign of fresh air in his cold dark halls. When the wind began to rise, carrying notes of spring and fresh blood, of flowers and iron, he knew it was time. And while the world above was experiencing its third autumn, Hades prepared to welcome his queen back home.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	Red Seeds and Iron

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).



The air tasted of rust, he thought. He had been waiting for the sign of a breeze, any sign of fresh air in his cold dark halls. When the wind began to rise, carrying notes of spring and fresh blood, of flowers and iron, he knew it was time. And while the world above was experiencing its third autumn, Hades prepared to welcome his queen back home. 

Readying the room was an easy task: it was always bare and clean, even dust refused to accumulate in his eternal realm. Only tiny spots of rust like red droplets on the iron throne indicated that this seat at least belonged to someone immortal yet not entirely beyond the passing of time. For that alone, although he was not planning to tell her, he would never polish them off: he had too many perfect, unchanging, dead things already. 

He simply aired the room thoroughly, chasing a few stray shadows from the corners where they kept trying to hide. He brought the food he would offer her, fresh fruit from a world where it would always be fresh. After that, he could do nothing but kneel below the empty throne and wait.

When she finally arrived, she entered in a flurry of red petals and the souls of mortals caught by the onset of winter. Persephone’s return meant famine, sickness and death for those who lived above. He could not bring himself to regret it. Hades knew better than to lift his head to gaze at his queen crowned with poppies. She needed no iron chains to keep him captive, no orders to make him obey. His gaze followed the heavy petals instead; they were swirling in a pattern he never fully understood, until they were finally still and motionless below Persephone’s feet as she ascended to her seat.

Trembling, gaze fixed on the ground, he held out his hand. His offering was always the same and would always be thus: six seeds as red as lifeblood, each of them a promise. He did not see her face, his gaze carefully averted while she licked every trace of pomegranate juice off his skin, but he felt her smile just the same, and he heard her joyous laughter when she lifted the hems of her heavy skirt and bared herself to him. That was all the order he would receive from her, he knew, and he did not hesitate to obey. She tasted of iron, too.


End file.
